


flight

by thefablediary



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Found Family, Gen, Poetry, angus absolutely adoring the two gays in love, basically a therapy fic for me myself and i, discovery and recovery was playing on repeat as i wrote the epilogue for this, maybe some non-continuity idk like i said this is a self serving fic i wrote in like 2 weeks max, numbers, pre/post petals to the medal, the worlds greatest detective, there's no described character death no worries!!!!! it's just alluded to, two gays in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefablediary/pseuds/thefablediary
Summary: Angus is sent to Goldcliff to investigate a series of burglaries throughout the city. He's set on taking up as little space as possible until he meets two women who, for the first time in his life, don't look at him as if he's only there to take up space.Hurley trusts her gut. Sloane recites a poem. Angus learns to breathe.





	1. i saw three birds in the woods

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!!! this is a really self indulgent fic i wrote about angus meeting and staying with sloane and hurley for a while because 1) i love sloane and hurley and i wanted to write about their relationship, 2) between rockport limited and lunar interlude 2 what was angus doing???? we don't know anything but the fact that he did a heck ton of detective work so why not have him on a case in goldcliff and 3) angst. forewarning there are a few descriptions of nightmares here but nothing graphic or detailed so!!!! please enjoy. you can find me on twitter @pileofghosts, also, before i go, i have all of this written already so i plan on uploading it consistently so i mean lol there you go. cool. read on.

_He looks down at his shoes and back up at the monster in the corner of the small car, hears the sound of its shell scraping at its legs as it hisses at him. He knows that the three men should be beside him with the body but he finds himself alone this time, chill bumps run up the length of his arm as the monster reels back and prepares to launch at him, he raises his arm to cover his face and-_

Angus jerks awake and finds himself in a cold sweat. He wipes some drool off his chin and, horrifyingly enough, there’s an imprint on his right cheek from where he’s been leaning against his armrest. He busies himself by trying not to let his face go red and checking his watch. He figures he slept for most of the journey; the railroad tracks are winding up into the mountains, now, and the sun hangs almost startlingly low in the sky. The car is quiet and it rumbles beneath him, and he shuffles the papers in the seat beside him purely to have something to do with his hands.

It’s a case file. The police office in Rockport had taken him on as a case-by-case detective no more than a month ago but he’d already solved three, one of which his fellow officers had been trying to crack for a few months prior to Angus’ arrival. This would be his first out-of-town work, though, and it was almost too easy; a serial burglar, bouncing around the banks of Goldcliff in a seemingly random pattern, only taking small sums of money, never laying a hand on anyone. Angus is practically right on top of the criminal already, seeing how he’s almost figured out the pattern and has narrowed down the list of the next possible targets to a T. There isn’t much work to do, but the station’s gotten him free lodging for three weeks with a parental signature. He figures what time he doesn’t spend sleuthing he’ll spend exploring the city. It’s fully industrialized, after all, and the sunsets up there… breathtaking.

Angus watches out the window and counts under his breath. He likes counting. Numbers just keep going, they’re reliable, you can’t run out of them. The train ascends. At 142 the engineer’s voice crackles to life over the intercom and announces that they’ll be pulling into the station shortly. Angus clutches the folder, fully expecting something to go wrong with the gears, something to happen to the breaks, expecting the assistant at the front of the car to turn around and cast some sort of dark magic-

The train slows to a stop and Angus’ heartbeat slows with it.

Once he’s gotten his one small suitcase from the baggage car he makes his way to the station, which really isn’t too far away, only two blocks or so. He pushes the door open with his shoulder and is greeted by an empty lobby area, so he resolves to sit and wait for whoever the receptionist is to come back to the room. He sits down in a chair that’s much too uncomfortable and crosses his ankles, too anxious to ring the bell, and he flips through the file three times before the door opens and a man in a tie steps into the room, not noticing Angus until just after he sits down at the desk.

The receptionist jumps and then a hand flies to his chest as he lets out a laugh, clearly embarrassed, and Angus feels the need to apologize.

“You must be Mr. Mcdonald, yes? I’ll let Captain Bane know you’ve arrived.” The man has an accent Angus can’t quite place and he mumbles something into a stone of farspeech that Angus can’t quite decipher from where he’s sitting. Sure enough, though, a stout man waltzes through the doorway sooner than Angus expected and smiles at him. Angus does an assessment in his head and decides that although this ‘Captain Bane’ can be trusted. Angus smiles back.

“Well, if it isn’t the acclaimed Detective Mcdonald!” Captain Bane laughs, but it’s a sincere compliment, and Angus pushes himself off the seat and shakes the man’s hand. He ignores the fact that Captain Bane may or may not be just a tiny bit intoxicated and puts on his adult face.

“I suppose that’s what they call me, sir.” Angus responds. This makes Captain Bane laugh harder, and Angus suspects it won’t be much longer before he’s doubled over on the floor. He clears his throat. “I’m here about the robberies,” Angus starts, but he accidentally makes it sound like a question, and he trails off in hopes of the message being communicated.

“Yes, yes, the robberies, yes. Of course. Abernathy, where is Officer Hurley?” Captain Bane asks the receptionist, and to their right a door to a private office opens. A halfling woman sticks her head out and smiles.

“Right here, sir. You rang?” She asks, then notices Angus there and gasps, opening the door all the way. “Oh! You must be Angus.”

Angus shuffles his feet and smiles at her. He wonders how many people previously knew he was coming. The woman (presumably Officer Hurley) closes the gap to greet him fully, and Angus’ hand is out before she can offer hers. She shakes it almost uncertainly and blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. He notices a sparkle in them and realizes that he liked the way she had used his first name.

“Detective Mcdonald, this is Lieutenant Hurley. She’ll be working with you on the Goldcliff Burglar case. One of the best in the business, if I do say so myself, and we’re very happy to have her here.” Hurley smiles and moves her hand to cover it. Angus is enchanted.

Angus has always liked interesting people. He can just tell when someone is dynamic, when they have a lot of layers to them but a lot of walls as well. He loves to uncover a person, and he _loves_ when they give him a tiny bit to work with. It’s like Christmas. That’s how he feels when he looks at Lieutenant Hurley. She sneaks a glance at him and winks, and Angus realizes two things at once: he’s been staring, and Captain Bane is talking. Angus tunes in.

“...given you lodging with Sundance Motel, a 5 minute walk from here, real nice place…” He’s saying, and Angus tries to disguise his impatience. He’s practically bouncing on his heels. Nobody notices.

Once they wrap things up and it’s resolved that Officer Hurley will show him to his room and help him set up, Angus is lugging his suitcase down the streets of Goldcliff, accompanied by his partner in justice for the next three weeks. The two of them don’t say much but every few moments Angus will catch her sneaking a glance at him, almost as if she’s just as dazzled by him as he is her. There’s just something about her mannerisms, the way she carries herself, that makes Angus’ chest feel warm. He can’t push away the thought that if he were to hug her she would be soft to the touch.

They step into the lobby of Sundance and are handed the key to room 003, a room on the ground floor with a window looking out onto the busy street. They push open the door and a cloud of dust encircles them almost instantly. It reminds Angus of a bad omen. The room is a dulled down blue and it oozes dreariness, but Angus knows that he won’t spend much time here anyway, so he moves to his bed and quietly sets his suitcase atop it. He watches Hurley in his peripheral vision as she trails a finger along the desk along the back wall and then inspects it, rubbing it against her thumb to clear the grime. She looks up at him.

“Mr. Mcdonald-” she starts, and Angus can’t stop himself.

“Angus!” he almost shouts it, and he wants to apologize for cutting her off, but he doesn’t. A smile finds its way to her eyes and she chuckles, no, _giggles_ to herself.

“Okay, you can just call me Hurley, then. We’re on the same level, Angus.” It’s like she can’t wipe the grin off her face. Angus doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved at the escaped tension. She blows that same piece of hair out of her eyes again; it must be a habit. “Angus, this place is so…” She starts, then brings a finger to her lips, thinking. “I mean, it’s nice, but it’s… cold. That’s what i’m going for, it’s cold. Uninviting.”

Angus looks around and, he has to admit, he agrees. It kind of looks like it hasn’t been touched since the dawn of time, really. There’s dust on every surface. He supposes it’ll do, though, especially when he thinks about papers and photographs spread everywhere and empty coffee cups on the tables. Yes, this’ll do, he’s sure of it.

“What I’m thinking is, why don’t you just…” She trails off, then picks back up when she’s decided how to ask the question. “Would you wanna, I don’t know, stay with me instead?” She hesitates, then rushes into explanations, hardly taking pauses to breathe. “I mean, like, I have a pretty big apartment, and the only other person there is my girlfriend, and we’re not, like, _intrusive_ , I’m sure she won’t mind having you around or anything, I’m just afraid you’ll get lonely staying in this cookie-cutter ghost room all by yourself, I don’t know, I just don’t want you all alone, this town can get a little intimidating when you’re by yourself and all…” She keeps rambling and Angus tries to tune her out to think.

He’s known Hurley for no more than half an hour. This is a new place in a new city, and Angus can barely keep up on his own, much less with other people around him all the time. Angus is an introvert, he needs to be by himself. He’s never met Hurley’s girlfriend, either, and the last thing he wants to do is be weird or awkward or throw off their routine. Angus wants to come and go. He wants to take up as little space as he possibly can.

But for the first time since Angus can even remember, maybe for the first time in his life, someone is telling him that they don’t like the thought of him being all by himself. He feels that warmth spread through his chest again.

“I suppose it would be best if I stayed with you,” Angus says finally, realizing there’s a lull in the conversation and taking it to be his moment. “For the case, after all.”

He smirks. She smiles back, big and bright, and doesn’t cover it with her hand.


	2. they danced among the sunbeams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains my favorite hurloane scene in this entire fic. i don't think there's anything to warn u about besides the fact that sloane and hurley are so in love it's Ridiculous

Hurley doesn’t live far from The Sundance Motel, and she swears they can make it there on foot if Angus is willing to sweat a little bit. He thinks he is, so they set out for her apartment, where she says her girlfriend Sloane should already be winding down for the evening. The sun is about half set, Angus realizes, and a few stars are pushing their way through the final rays of light in the sky. In contrast to their journey to the motel, Hurley talks almost the entire way to her home, telling him about her job and about Goldcliff and about Sloane.

Hurley’s been involved with the Goldcliff Militia for almost twelve years, working her way up since she was “fresh out of training.” She’s trained in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat and brags that she once took out three wizards twice her size just using sheer physical force. She was placed on the Goldcliff Burglar case at about the time Angus was, no more than a week ago, and she was told to work with him because the person they initially considered was caught selling and using false gold pieces. She laughs at this for a little while, and Angus can’t help but laugh with her.

She grew up in Goldcliff but has travelled all over. Angus asks her if she’s ever been to Rockport and she tells him it’s one of her favorite places to be, what with all the industry and the wide range of products and services. You never run out of things to do, she says. There were less places she hadn’t been than places she had, really, and she had so many stories it felt like they would wrap around the world if you were to lay them all down side by side. She loves Goldcliff because she knows it like the back of her hand. She knows all the best places to watch the stars, all the best places to take someone on your first date, the building with the best roof for hanging out with your friends after hours. She swears that if they have extra time, she’ll show him as much as she can. He’s determined to have extra time.

Sloane is a puzzle, according to Hurley. They met while Hurley was on the job, once, and she says she couldn’t stop thinking about her. “Sloane may confuse most people, but I can read her like a book,” Hurley says. Sloane is gentle and beautiful and has a soothing voice, and Sloane likes poetry and bar fights. Sloane loves babies but hates toddlers, and she can only cook one thing, and it’s lamb stew, but it’s the best damn lamb stew you’ll ever have in your life. And Sloane is all angles and is good at holding people and she wears three sizes bigger shirts than Hurley does, and Angus can’t help but realize that when Hurley talks about Sloane, her eyes get starry and far away like he’s only ever imagined people in love’s eyes do.

When they climb the steps and arrive at Hurley’s door, the arm that Angus is carrying his suitcase with is almost numb, but his heart is full.

Hurley slides the key into the lock without even looking, and it’s such an obvious routine to her at this point that Angus notices right away. She turns it sideways and then the lock clicks open, and she turns the knob and lets him in before following shortly behind. They step into a cozy little lounge room with a couch and two chairs and a lot of books, like, a _lot_ of books. It almost knocks Angus’ breath out of his chest. To their right is a little kitchen with dishes on the counter and sticky notes on the fridge, and there’s a little table with two chairs right across from each other. There’s a hallway at the back of the room, too, which Angus assumes leads to their bedroom, and he tries his best not to feel like a burden when he thinks about it.

“You can set your stuff on the couch, Angus, it’s cool.” Hurley reassures, walking into the kitchen and stepping up onto a stool to search through a high cabinet. She stands up on her toes and sifts through various mugs, and Angus pages through the case file once, twice more, succumbing to nervous habit. He doesn’t hear the footsteps coming down the hall, so when he looks up to see a very tall woman cross in front of him and then stop and do a double take, he almost jumps out of his skin. He looks from this woman (who must be Sloane) to Hurley, who senses the added presence and turns from where she’s trying desperately to reach an aluminum mug at the back of the shelf.

“Sloane, this is Angus!” Hurley says, turning back to the cabinet to continually try (and continually fail) to reach the cup. Angus watches the wires connect in Sloane’s brain as she looks back down at him and her eyebrows shoot up as she smiles.

“Oh, Angus Mcdonald, the boy detective!” She says, and Angus blushes. “Nice to meet you, Angus.” She says nonchalantly, heading into the kitchen to reach over Hurley and grab the mug she’d been trying so desperately to get. Hurley spins around on her toes and kisses Sloane quickly, like it’s nothing, like they were made specifically to kiss each other. Sloane smiles at her and then turns to set the mug on the counter, pulling another cabinet open and taking a glass down from the highest shelf.

“How was work?” Sloane asks over her shoulder, and Hurley pulls open the fridge and takes out the milk.

“I mean, it was work. Nothing special. Well, nothing until this one blew in, obviously.” Hurley answers with a smile in Angus’ direction, and she ducks underneath Sloane’s arm (which is outstretched to reach a canister of tea) and sets the milk bottle on the counter. Angus is in awe at the way they operate around each other, and he realizes with certainty that Sloane is a part of Hurley’s routine, too. Hurley peeks around at him. “What do you want to drink, Angus?”

“O-oh, just water, thanks.” He stutters, because really, he hadn’t expected her to ask. She smiles at him and Sloane pulls down a second glass and hands it to Hurley without even being asked. It’s like watching magic happen. Angus relaxes his shoulders in spite of himself.

“So Angus,” Sloane starts, and Hurley was right, her voice sounds like sleep. “How long are you gonna be staying?”

Angus blinks. Blinks again. He’s been watching the whole time, right? He swears he never noticed Hurley give Sloane the rundown of the situation, he’s almost sure of it. Sloane looks up at him from where she’s pouring milk and must notice his confusion, because she laughs and then explains, “Hurley’s always bringing in stray cats and stuff. Assumed this was the same sort of case.” She winks at him and Angus knows instantly that there’s no sort of malice or insult in her voice, and he smiles even though he knows it’s probably odd of him to do so. Hurley _tsks_ her tongue anyway, walking over to Angus and handing him a glass of water.

“Sloane, don’t pick on him.” Hurley scolds, but again, it’s not serious. She looks down at his suitcase, which hasn’t even been opened yet (Angus has been too distracted by the two of them, the way they fit together like puzzle pieces) and takes it for him. “We have a spare bedroom from when we first moved in and slept separately. You can stay there, if you want.” Hurley says kindly, and Angus nods even though he knows he shouldn’t.

Angus is doing a lot of things he knows he shouldn’t be doing, now that he has the chance to think about it. Don’t take up more space than you’re good for. Don’t ask for anything of someone else if you’re a guest. There’s a whole list he knows he should be keeping in check, but something about being here with Sloane and Hurley makes him want to erase the checkboxes.

Hurley shows him the room he’ll be staying in and he’s delighted from the second they step inside. It’s all warm colors and wood carved furniture, and there’s a plaid blanket on the bed. There’s a potted plant in the corner that Hurley says she’s determined to keep alive even though she doesn’t sleep in this room anymore, and Angus believes it; this plant somehow looks healthier than most houseplants he’s seen before.

“Oh man, how could I forget!” Hurley exclaims suddenly, and Angus turns from where he’s looking at the painting on the wall of bright red and orange trees to see Hurley hurrying over to the window on the far wall of the room. “Congratulations, Angus, you get the honor of having the crown jewel of the house right at your fingertips.” She pulls back the curtain and, sure enough, it’s gorgeous. The view from it looks out over the cliff that made this city famous, the land below it unscathed by civilization except for a few small colonies of life scattered throughout. Between Angus and Hurley and the edge are a few shorter buildings, still in view but adding to it rather than taking away. Angus breathes out a sigh he didn’t know he’s been holding in, and Hurley smiles. “I _know_.” She whispers.

Angus looks at her, then, feeling all the care and warmth and affection she’d shown him in just one day hit him all at once. He can’t keep the smile out of his voice when he says, “Thank you, Hurley.”

She can’t keep the smile out of her eyes when she ruffles his hair and tells Angus it’s good to have him. He believes her.

After she leaves him to unpack (“You can put your stuff in the drawers there, I’m pretty sure I emptied them but if I didn’t just leave what’s in there in a pile outside your door, whatever”) and Sloane shouts goodnight to him from the next room over, Angus burrows himself in bed under the sheets and the big soft plaid blanket and lets the warmth in his chest take over his whole body. He falls asleep knowing he shouldn’t be here, knowing he shouldn’t be getting attached, but not finding it in himself to care.


	3. and chirped with the overworked cicadas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some forewarnings : angus has another nightmare at the beginning of this chapter and it's all italicized in case you'd like to skip it. dont forget u can find me on twitter @pileofghosts ! also thank you all for such kind comments on the first two chapters, it warms my heart to think that u all are loving reading it as much as i loved writing it :'-)

_He stands in a circle of the people he knows, all of them shoulder to shoulder, their backs facing his direction, he turns in circles and shouts at them but they don’t acknowledge that he’s there, he crumbles to his knees and sits in the stony silence, a darkness descends upon all of them, he looks up at the source of it-_

Angus startles awake in the middle of the night, remembers where he is, wipes a tear from his eye that he didn’t mean to let fall and is asleep again within minutes.

When he wakes the next morning, the apartment is quiet. There aren’t any voices coming from the living room, no sounds of life from the kitchen, and Angus assumes he’s the first one awake. It’s just past daybreak, judging by the amount of light filtering through the window, and Angus peeks out at it to find the remnants of a sunrise painted across the sky. The cliff is more beautiful in the light than it was in the dark. He takes a picture in his head and then creaks the door to his room open, padding out into the quiet hallway. When he gets to the living room he finds himself almost magnetized to the books, brushing his fingers along the spines as he reads their names. There’s a lot he hasn’t heard of but some he has, and they seem to range through all sizes and difficulty levels; he even finds a picture book he’d had when he was very young.

He pulls an emerald green book off the shelf at random, and it reads  _Beings of the Wind: Jeanine Ellewood_ in gold lettering on the cover. He thumbs through the pages and realizes it’s poetry, judging by the shapes and lengths of the stanzas. As he’s skimming one called ‘flight’, he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

“That’s a good one.” The someone says, and Angus turns quickly to find that the voice belongs to Sloane. She rubs sleep out of her eyes and smiles at him drowsily. “Beings of the Wind, right? Ellewood?”

Angus nods, but something in him feels guilty for touching it. Sloane knows it by name, just by looking at it, and he’s in here looking through it like it’s a toy. He’s ashamed of himself, and not for the first time since he’s been here, he feels the need to apologize. Angus fully expects her to be upset that he touched it, to be angry, to tell Hurley he can’t stay with them anymore-

“You can hold onto it, I don't mind.” Sloane says instead, smiling down at him and walking, no, _floating_ into the kitchen. He looks down at the book in his hands and then back up to her, and he realizes he’s genuinely awestruck. He understands why Hurley speaks so highly of her, now. She picks her thought back up as she’s rummaging through the fridge, and Angus tucks the book under his arm and steps just inside the kitchen so that he can hear her.

“I got it as a gift a few years ago, it’s signed by the author if you look right inside the cover. I’ve probably read it twenty times over since then. There’s this one called _Sounds of Night,_ I know it by heart. I think you’ll like it.” It’s like she speaks without thinking, like it’s all improvised.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Angus says, and Sloane looks up over her shoulder from where she’s knelt at a cabinet, rummaging through it. He can’t see her mouth, but she smiles with her eyes and turns back to whatever she’s looking for.

“Angus, Hurley’s gonna make muffins when she finally gets up, do you want any?” She asks, and Angus nods when she glances up at him again. Sloane sets the pan down on the counter and then leans against it and cocks her brow.

“You don’t talk much, do you, kid?” Sloane asks. Angus’ shoulders shrink back in spite of himself. He tries not to be embarrassed.

“Not much worth saying, ma’am.” He answers earnestly, and she squints at him. Angus tries to uncover what she’s looking for in him and comes up with nothing. He’s not used to being analyzed, to be frank, and it makes him uncomfortable; he feels like an insect under a magnifying glass. For someone who does so much deducing and puzzle-solving, Angus considers himself a pretty straight-forward kid; he’s never liked to be pored over like Sloane’s doing now. Nobody’s really ever tried to find anything deep in him, anyway.

And Sloane throws her head back and laughs, and it sounds like a bell.

“You remind me of myself, Angus.” She chuckles, coming down from her bubbles of laughter, and Angus feels himself blush. This is all so new to him, so unique, that it catches him completely off guard when she leans down and extends her hand in his direction. He takes it in his and he’s not all too surprised to find that she has a rather firm handshake. She flashes him a warm, toothy smile. “You can call me Sloane, if you want.”

Angus wants.

Hurley shuffles into the room as Angus is getting the milk out of the fridge and greets the both of them with a yawn. She squeezes Angus’ shoulder as she leans around him to grab an orange out of the fridge drawer and tosses it to Sloane, who peels it, but not before shouting “ _There’s_ my beautiful girlfriend!” and promptly lifting Hurley off of her feet and popping a kiss onto her nose. Hurley shrieks with laughter and pushes Sloane’s face away affectionately, then buries her face in Sloane’s shoulder for a moment before she sets her back down. Angus knows he should feel like he’s interrupting something, but for some reason, he doesn’t. In fact, he laughs right along with Hurley, and neither of the two women stop what they’re doing or turn to look at him like a distraction. It’s… refreshing, Angus thinks; it feels clean and good and new.

The thing that’s troubling him is that he typically just doesn’t warm up to people like this. His parents never encouraged that sort of thing (“Keep your distance, Angus, know where you stand”) and because of this, connections are just hard to come by. He’s just always assumed it’s easier to breeze through things, never leaving a scratch, making as little noise and as little movement as possible. Don’t take up too much space, his brain says. The thing he’s never considered is that one day, he may stumble upon people who wouldn’t measure him in the amount of space he’s taking up.

Angus thinks that maybe the reason it’s so easy to be with Sloane and Hurley is because they haven’t once looked at him like all he’s doing is taking up space.

They have breakfast together, Sloane and Hurley on the couch, Angus on the floor beside the fireplace. Hurley makes _damn_ good muffins, and Sloane watches her as she makes them, occasionally leaning over to have mini conversations with Angus. She asks him about books and he tells her about Caleb Cleveland, he asks her about poetry and she tells him about poets like Ford and Branch and Rochester. She recites two of her favorite poems and they sound like spells. From the kitchen, Hurley hums a tune under her breath.

When Hurley asks Angus offhand about his parents, he finds a way to change the subject.

Before long Hurley tells Angus that it’s about time the two of them head down to the station, and he realizes he’d almost forgotten that he’s sincerely here on business. He spends a few minutes getting ready in his room before meeting Hurley in the living room, who kisses Sloane one more time before she and Angus take their leave. She locks the door behind them and it’s only then that Angus remembers he needs to retreat back into Typical Angus, the Angus who solves crimes and has good manners and doesn’t take up more space than he should.

He realizes, too, that Hurley makes him not want to be Typical Angus, but it’s time to work, now. Angus flips through the papers in the case file once, twice, three times.

It doesn’t take long before it becomes very apparent to Angus that Hurley has a Typical Hurley, too. From the second they enter the station, it’s like he’s talking to somebody completely different than who he’d been laughing with no more than an hour ago. Her smiles are tighter, her movements more planned than spontaneous. Angus gets the feeling that the Hurley who makes muffins and kisses her girlfriend in the kitchen and ruffles his hair unasked is a Hurley that very few people see. He feels bad for the ones who don’t.

Captain Bane briefs with them about the collected evidence and eyewitness reports. The three of them run through any theories they may have and eventually Angus and Hurley agree to start with Goldcliff Trust, the major bank in the city and the place that took the most damage in terms of the robberies. It’s a hop skip and a jump away but they make it in good time with a good bit of time to spare, so they get coffee at a little cafe near the bank and drink it at a table by a window. Hurley absentmindedly doodles on a napkin and Angus, too nervous to start the case for good conversation, counts to 367.

Throughout the course of the day, the two of them make a good bit of progress gathering source evidence and public statements. Angus keeps a document of possible descriptions of the burglar but they all contradict each other; he sticks it in his coat pocket just in case it comes in handy later. He and Hurley take a break halfway through to talk through their progress and accidentally get distracted cracking jokes about the uptight people at the front desks. They separate again when Hurley laughs out an _inhumanly_ loud snort and it earns them a few looks.

They get home late. Sloane is already asleep when they walk in, but after Angus retires for the evening he tucks himself into the big bed and opens Beings of the Wind.


	4. their voices fading with the rise of the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're at the halfway point friends!!!!!!! a warning before you read: this chapter includes a pretty intricately described anxiety attack in first person pov. if this is triggering for you, just know that it starts with 'angus has another nightmare' and the detailed descriptions/attack ends with 'that used to happen to me too, you know'. otherwise i dont think there's much to warn you about!!!! i sincerely hope you enjoy it, i had so much fun writing this chapter and i love my babies.

The next few days go, for the most part, according to routine, which Angus likes. There’s a set process to everything and it just makes the day go smoother than if he were playing it by ear. However, there are a few moments sprinkled in that Angus thinks about with startling clarity, be it in sight or in sound or just in the way he felt, moments he didn't expect. He pores over these magic-dusted chapters with a sort of grace he rarely dedicates to anything, feverously analyzing them, trying to remember every detail.

First, Angus and Hurley finish work early and Sloane announces that she has a special surprise, to celebrate. She disappears into the kitchen and makes them swear not to try and decipher what she’s doing, even though Hurley leans over and whispers the ‘surprise’ to Angus and they dissolve into a fit of giggles on the couch.

While they’re waiting, Angus sinks back into the cushions like wet sand, something he’s never had the opportunity to do prior to staying with Hurley and Sloane. He realizes that since he’s been in Goldcliff, he’s been breaking a lot of rules, whether they be his own or his parents’ or his mentors’. He thinks he likes the feeling of it; it tears away at something inside him, but he’s slowly starting to think that maybe that something isn’t supposed to be there anyway.

Lying there on the couch and gut laughing with Hurley, shirt untucked, bare feet on the cool wood floor, Angus realizes that he doesn’t like the thought of going home at all. He doesn’t want to taste something this sweet, this good, only to have to let go of it again just as quickly.

He stops worrying about it when Sloane appears in the living room balancing three bowls of lamb stew on her arms.

They eat in the living room and it doesn’t take long for Hurley to suggest “Screw beds! Let’s have a sleepover tonight!” while snagging pillows from the couch and chairs and stealing a blanket from a basket beside the fireplace. The three of them crowd in a semi-circle on the floor. Angus fills up with excitement and before he can stop them, the words just bubble out of him.

“I’ve never had one of these before!” He cries excitedly. His fist clenches instinctively as he resists the urge to press it over his mouth.

Hurley turns to look at him and it’s like a stone lands in the pit of his stomach. He knows what’s coming next, she’s going to look at him like a stuck up rich boy with no friends, she’s going to laugh at him-

The biggest smile lights up Hurley’s face and all she tells him is that he’s in for a real treat. But there’s something there, Angus sees it, something deeper, something more worrisome. He doesn’t get to focus on it long, but it’s there.

Sloane lights up the fireplace and they sit in the warmth, Hurley leaning against Sloane and Angus resting his elbows on his knees. They talk and laugh and get more servings of stew (because Hurley was right, it’s the best damn lamb stew Angus has ever had) and Sloane and Hurley tell stories about how they met. They sit like that until the fire is dying and they’re all half asleep, and Angus finally goes when he can hear the steady breathing of Hurley and Sloane right there with him.

Another memory; On the morning of the seventh day Angus is in Goldcliff, Hurley wakes him up before dawn and tells him she has a surprise for him. He pulls on a t-shirt and they sneak out of the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind them so as not to alert Sloane. Angus’ mind races with possibilities and as they scurry down the street he asks Hurley again and again for hints, but she won’t budge, only saying that they need to hurry up. They arrive at a seemingly derelict building on the edge of town with no more than ten floors, some of the windows smashed and some odd vines growing up a part of one side. Angus almost thinks Hurley’s crazy, but then she tells him they’re going _inside_ , and then he definitely thinks she’s crazy.

He follows her without much protest, despite his better judgement, and they climb eight or nine flights of stairs with startling aplomb before bursting through the door to, to Angus’ surprise, the roof. Hurley rushes out into the open air and stops in her tracks, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Oh, we made it!” She cries, and Angus cracks a smile simply at how overjoyed she sounds to be here. She turns in a slow circle, arms outstretched, then reaches toward Angus. He takes her hand and lets her pull him wherever she needs to, which ends up being right to the edge of the roof.

Angus looks down over it and shudders. “Hurley, are you sure we should be up here? This roof looks pretty…” He taps his foot against the material beneath their feet and recieves a hollow echo in response. “...unstable.”

She doesn’t say anything, instead shushing him and turning his face towards the sky out in front of them. There’s nothing obscuring their view; all Angus can see are shorter buildings below them and the river surrounding Goldcliff, and beyond that the desert, and beyond that the sky.

And the sky, right before Angus’ eyes, begins to change colors. It’s like somebody’s ejecting a thin sheet of water with different watercolors, first purple, then pink, then orange. Angus subconsciously leans forward, wishing he could fall into it, wishing he could stay in this moment with Hurley and the roof and the sky forever.

Hurley squeezes his hand. The sun peeks over the horizon.

And the last one, the most recent, the one Angus thinks about with a twinge beneath his lungs and a whisper in the back of his head:

He has another nightmare. It’s startling to Angus how much more frequently they’ve been happening, coming and going almost every time he lets himself fall asleep. He’s had one all but one of the nights he’s been staying with Hurley and Sloane (that makes nine of them), but this one, he decides, has to have been the worst of them all. He hardly ever dreams about his parents, but there they were, and Angus remembers their dream-manifested faces as they looked down on him with startling clarity.

He’s so terrified that when he wakes up, it’s with such intense fear that the momentum of it throws him into a sitting position. For a moment, he can’t remember where he is; in fact, it takes him a few minutes, at least, to fully wake up and absorb the room around him. It feels bigger than usual, too big, no longer like a cocoon but like a wide, dark basement. He can’t bring himself to turn on the lights; he can’t really bring himself to move at all.

All he remembers from his dream are his mother and father and a gaping hole and a raging, crackling fire, eating up everything he’s ever _known_ ; he gathers the sheets in his fists and pulls them close to his chest violently and suddenly, embarrassingly, a choked sob escapes from his throat. The tears are falling before he can stop them and he pushes them off his cheeks with the heel of his hand roughly, fiercely, as if they’re burning him. Everything is moving much too quickly around him and he just can’t keep up, his breathing quickens but he can’t keep up, and when the door creaks open he nearly falls off the bed trying to be as far away from it as possible.

Then Sloane steps in, and all Angus can feel is shame.

He wishes he could just stop for a moment, collect his bearings, but the end of his rope is just out of his reach and instead of calming down it feels as if the room is crumbling around him. In his peripheral vision Angus sees Sloane’s shadow cross around the front of the bed and then stop near him, sitting down on the wrinkled comforter. He flinches away, trying to curl up into as small of a ball as he can, because truthfully he doesn’t know what will happen if she tries to touch him. He’s always handled these things on his own.

She doesn’t try to touch him. She doesn’t reach out to him at all, actually; Angus watches her with a wary eye, but she only sits, practically unmoving. His fists clench and unclench on the sheets and he focuses on steadying his breathing, take it slow, Angus, just breathe. Ten minutes must pass before he can take a breath that doesn’t hiccup or shake in the slightest, and at that point he can’t make eye contact with Sloane.

“That used to happen to me too, you know.” She whispers after a while, and Angus looks up at her then, startled at the sudden ripple in the silence. He sniffs, but only because he can’t think of the right thing to say. She looks down at him for the first time all night and, slowly, covers his hand with hers. It’s warm. Angus’ eyes dart from their hands to Sloane’s face, which remains stony and serious. She takes a deep breath. “Whatever you’re carrying with you, you don’t have to be ashamed of it, Angus.”

Angus doesn’t mention how it sounds a little like she’s near tears. He doesn’t have to ask her not to tell anybody about this, he can tell from her tone that she understands. He doesn’t have to ask her to stay there until he falls asleep, either; she just does.


	5. descendants of dove, crow, robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what ? plot???? plot is happening! finally!! 5/8 of the way thru this story and we have some solid plot!!!! this chapter is a shorty but the next one is a BRICK so. hold out for that!! nothing much to warn u about here as far as im aware. i would die for hurley

Two weeks into Angus’ stay in Goldcliff, he comes out of his room after getting ready for a day of investigation to find Hurley and Sloane talking in hushed whispers. If he listens close he can tell that they’re arguing, but not much else. They don’t notice him standing just inside the entrance to the hallway. Angus waits.

When it looks like they’ve come to a halt and Sloane turns into the kitchen, very noticeably worried about something, Angus makes a show of looking like he’s just emerged. Hurley smiles up at him, unaware of what he saw. Angus tries not to feel guilty for eavesdropping.

After Hurley grabs her bag, they’re ready to leave. Angus holds the door open for Hurley and notices that she and Sloane don’t kiss before they go, but Hurley still says “i love you”, which Sloane returns wholeheartedly. They step out into the sunlight.

All day, Angus can’t help but notice that there’s something off about the way Hurley’s acting. They’re confined to the office, doing background analyses in the filing room, and more than once Angus catches her mindlessly thumbing through sheets of paper, eyes unfocused on the wall opposite her. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration on whatever it is that has her occupied, but when she catches Angus staring she smiles at him like nothing’s wrong.

Angus counts to 635 before he decides that he has the courage to ask what’s troubling her, but when he does allow the question to come out, she shrugs it off. She should know that he’s smarter than that, really, but Angus decides to put it on a shelf and bring it up later. He isn’t entitled to know, he knows that, but it’s interfering with their progress. Angus doesn’t know what he’d do without Hurley, but he does know that he won’t let anyone or anything prevent him from solving this case, no matter what.

Hurley wants to clock out early tonight, and Angus follows her reluctantly.

On their way home, Hurley isn’t nearly as talkative as she usually is. She won’t stop squeezing her hands together, clenching and unclenching, and it’s making Angus nervous - for her and for his own sanity. He clears his throat once and then twice as they walk, hoping to prompt her to open up, but she doesn’t even come close. He tries to talk to her about Goldcliff, but she dismisses him and says she doesn’t feel up to it right this moment.

Okay, Angus. Time to take things into your own hands.

He doesn’t hesitate nor does he give warning before he pulls her by the hand into an alley along the side of the street, taking her by surprise. She cries out into the evening and then whispers, “Angus, what are you doing?”

“You’re not telling me something. Something about the case.” He says, his voice more confident than he expected. He really, really doesn’t want to have to interrogate Hurley, or worse: consider her a suspect; however, if he’s learned anything as a detective, it’s that you can’t afford to take risks. Hurley looks him up and down with wise eyes, shining eyes, and her shoulders relax. Her brow is still creased with anxiety, though, Angus can see it even in the dim light of the setting sun. She takes a deep breath.

“Angus, please don’t make me do this _now_ …” She says begrudgingly, but Angus won’t take no for an answer, and he tells her so. She lets go of his hand suddenly, definitively, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Please just… just tell me what it is. If it can help with the case, I want to hear it, I don’t care about what could happen to me.” Angus says, trying his best to convince her, because in his heart he knows that he would sacrifice anything for justice. He just knows it.

Hurley looks down at her shoes and then back up at him, staring him straight in the eyes. Angus can see behind them and he can tell that she’s wrestling with something, an idea, something complicated and convoluted and mysterious. He can tell that she doesn’t want him to know what it is, but he has to. He thinks he has to, anyway.

But when she says “Sloane is the Goldcliff Burglar,” Angus wishes he hadn’t asked at all. In fact, he wishes he could erase the words from the air, just rinse them out of history as if they were never said, because never in Angus’ life has something made less sense. He knows she is completely serious but for a moment he’s tempted to check Hurley’s face because maybe, just _maybe_ this is a joke and she’s laughing. But it’s not and she isn’t and Angus’ brain instantly goes into overdrive trying to comprehend that this gentle, kind woman who reads poetry and makes stew and sits with him through panic attacks is a thief. A thief.

The words _Sloane is a thief_ taste like turpentine and the sip of whiskey he snuck at Candlenights dinner when he was ten.

Hurley’s eyes scan him once, twice, and then she instantly grows frantic, desperation lining the edges of her words. “She’s not a bad person though, Angus, you know that, you do. I don’t know what we’re going to do about this, but… we can’t turn her in. Angus, we can’t.” She’s crying now, and Angus knows he should console her, but he’s too busy trying to put this puzzle together. Sloane is a puzzle, Hurley had said.

Hurley takes his other hand, trying to reach him, to convince him. “Angus, promise me you won’t turn her in.” She begs, and Angus meets her eyes. A tear slips out of one of them. Her voice cracks, and it sounds like a heart breaking. “She’s all I have.”

He doesn’t think, he just does. He does what he's always done, what he knows how to do, what's always been easy. In and out, breezing through, never leaving a scratch.

Angus turns, steps out onto the sidewalk, and walks in the opposite direction of Hurley’s apartment, leaving her calling after him.


	6. at odds under nature's dictation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're 3/4 of the way done if you include the epilogue!!!!!!!! i love reading all of ur comments and it makes my heart so warm to know that you're all enjoying it. i cant wait to see what you guys think of the conclusion. not much to warn you about here except for sad angus. read on

The sun is setting and Angus doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows he needs to get there fast. He can’t stay here, that he’s sure of. As much as he’d like to say otherwise, he’s just not strong enough to turn Sloane in. He knows he won’t be. It kills him.

Plus, turning Sloane in would mean turning Hurley in as an accomplice, and the thought of both of them seeing him for the last time from behind cell bars threatens to tear his heart to pieces. So he resolves to go home. Typical Angus’ home, yes, back to Rockport with his mother and father and his big house with all its empty rooms. He won’t stop by the apartment before he leaves, he has lots of clothes at the house and he can’t bear to say goodbye. As much as he’d like to be able to, he can’t. He can’t even think about their faces as he leaves without choking up.

Angus Mcdonald, breezing through, never leaving a scratch, taking up as little space and making as little noise as possible.

When he arrives at the station, the next train to Rockport is set to arrive in about half an hour. He sits down on a bench, hands between his knees, and looks up into the wind. It’s a cool night and he’s one of three patrons at the train station, but he’s never seen either of the others. He’s not really up for talking, anyway; his mind is too busy racing with hows and whens and whys and what-ifs.

It all sounds like static, screaming at him from different directions. How could he have missed this? He’s the greatest detective in the _world_ , how could he have possibly missed this?

But of course Sloane is the Goldcliff Burglar. Of course. The amount of nights they came home to no Sloane were much more plentiful than the nights they came home to Sloane in the kitchen, Sloane reading on the couch, Sloane staring out the window at the night sky. Angus realizes now that he never once asked where Sloane works or what she does. He was an idiot. The whole time, the answer was right under his nose.

There were burglaries after burglaries after burglaries, and all the while Angus never would have thought. That’s what haunts him.

He doesn’t notice that there are tears in his eyes until they start to sting, and he blinks them back, determined not to cry over a criminal. It’s black and white, isn’t it? The people searching for truth and justice, those are the good guys, and the criminals and the thieves and the ones working against law and order, those are the bad ones. It’s always been black and white that way. Angus has always been good at this because it’s always been black and white; criminals are criminals and he knows one when he sees one.

So why does his heart feel so warm when he thinks about Sloane? Why does he miss her already, why does he want to hug her one last time? When he thinks about her, why are the first things he thinks of warmth and guidance and love?

This is the disconnect for Angus. He doesn’t understand.

The train arrives and the whistle is much too loud. It pulls to a stop in front of him and it feels like an omen, like a bad sign, and as he watches the few arriving passengers trickle out of the car doors he wishes he could find a way to numb the pain in his chest. He tugs on his sleeves as he files into the line and finds himself trying not to remember how Sloane and Hurley’s hands felt in his.

He’s about to climb up the stairs into the passenger car when he hears a shout from behind him. His brain rushes into overdrive; Don’t turn around, Angus, don’t do it. You made it this far, you just have to get up these stairs and it can all be behind you. You don’t have to worry about this anymore. This doesn’t have to be your problem.

But it does, Angus knows it. It’s been his problem from the start. He turns around.

Sloane stands on the other side of the platform, disheveled and breathing like she just ran a 5k, staring straight at him. He focuses on not letting his knees go weak beneath his limp body and stares right back at her. She takes a shaky breath and Angus realizes that yes, she’s crying. He lifts his chin.

“Angus, I’m sorry!” She yells, attracting a few stares but no further interest. But Angus holds onto every word, and these feel like a punch to his gut. She waits on him to reply, but he can’t find the words to say, and he realizes that that happens a lot when he talks to her. “I’m so sorry, Angus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out. This is all my fault.” She cries, and Angus feels the fire in his stomach flare up, enraged.

“What did you think was going to happen, Sloane?” He asks, and to his surprise, there’s no trace of teariness in his voice. All he feels is betrayal and anger and… longing. He feels it hard as the thought occurs to him.

“I don’t know! I don’t know, Angus, but I never wanted to hurt you. I never dreamed of it, Angus, you have to believe me.” She’s drawing nearer to him now, bit by bit, never overstepping her boundaries. The train whistles behind Angus and the wind threatens to blow him over, but he stands his ground. He’s running out of time, out of options.

He looks at her one last time, and his heart sinks to his feet, and he steps up onto the first step of the car.

“ _I saw three birds in the woods,_ ” she shouts over his shoulder, and something clenches in Angus’ chest. His fist closes tight as involuntarily as his eyes do and he tries to block her out, tries desperately to pretend she isn’t there. His feet are lead.

 _“I saw three birds in the woods,”_ she repeats, taking another shaking breath _,_  
_“They danced among the sunbeams and_  
 _Chirped with the overworked cicadas,_  
 _Their voices fading with the rise of the sun._  
 _Descendants of dove, crow, robin,_  
 _At odds under nature’s dictation,_  
 _But they sang, though they could not be more different-”_

Angus knows the last line, the final punctuation. He’s read the poem dozens of times, it’s in Sloane’s book, it’s _flight_. And as he listens to Sloane recite it, desperate, _powerless_ , Angus knows what he has to do. He knows. He’s known it all along.

He turns to face her, and speaking with her in a voice barely above a whisper, he decides.

_“And they sang, and they sang all the same.”_

He’s in Sloane’s arms before he realizes he’s run to her and Hurley was right, Sloane is great at holding you, and when her arms wrap around his waist he feels something snap inside him and he collapses into her embrace, burying his face against her shoulder. They are statues, knelt on the platform at the Goldcliff Train Station, leaning into each other and weeping in unison. Angus hears the train whistle once more and then pull away not too long afterwards and he is so thankful, he’s just so incredibly thankful that he isn’t on it.

Sloane leans away from him after a while and holds him at an arm’s length, her hands firmly clasping his shoulders. She looks him dead in the eyes, her stare piercing right through him. It’s chilling.

“Angus,” she says, and the genuinity in her voice shakes him to the core. “I promise, no more stealing from me. I cross my heart. This marks the end of it, Angus, I promise.”

He believes her.

She carries him back to the apartment, then, and Angus can’t find it in himself to object. So much has happened in one evening and he’s completely worn through. When they get back home (Real Angus’ home, he realizes, for the first time ever) Hurley is waiting just inside, pacing, the remains of tears still on her face. A noise like joy and despair all mixed together tears out of her throat like a song when they come in and Sloane sets him down easy only so that Hurley can wrap her arms around him in one swift motion, catching him off guard in the best possible way. She’s laughing and squeezing him and laughing some more, and she tells him that it nearly ruined her to think she may not have gotten to say goodbye. It nearly ruined him, too. He tells her so.

When they’ve all gone to bed (and Hurley has hugged him three times and Sloane has rustled his hair and kissed him on his forehead), Angus crawls underneath the covers, pulls out _Beings of the Wind_ , and dog-ears _flight_.


	7. but they sang, though they could not be more different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friends, we're rounding out to the end of this story. this is technically the conclusion to it actually! i have an epilogue written out, though, so be expecting that in a couple days. ill be real w u- i cried a little bit while writing this goodbye scene just because gosh i love the three of them so much. some of the best npcs in the show i'd say. maybe im biased but i love them very much. also i hope you've enjoyed the story so far!!!!! all of your comments have been absolutely lovely, i really appreciate it

The day after what Angus will remember simply as The Day, he and Hurley go to the Militia Office and debrief with Captain Bane. By debrief, Angus knows that they mean ‘lie,’ but he figures that Sloane is good, deep down. It may go against everything he knows, but he can’t bear to turn her in when all she’s been and all she’ll ever be to him, to Hurley, to everyone she meets, is good.

They tell Captain Bane that when they identified the criminal and apprehended her, she took her own life on scene. It takes a hell of a lot of convincing, and if it were anybody besides Bane’s favorite Lieutenant and someone with the reputation of ‘the world’s greatest detective,’ they may not have gotten it by him at all. After a while, though, Captain Bane reluctantly accepts their story as the truth, celebrating the victory and apologizing to Angus that he “had to see something so gruesome.” Angus bites his tongue to keep from accidentally asking him what he means, and with Hurley at his side, he leaves the building for the last time to take a victory day.

The train back to Rockport is set to leave the following morning, and it’s collectively accepted that Angus will be on it this time. Sloane mentions it offhand while on a walk as they glance up at the list of departure times, and Angus feels the thought settle over them all at once: it’s time for this to end. They had to know that this was only temporary, didn’t they? There’s no reason for him to stay.

Angus knows it, but he wishes he didn’t.

They spend that evening in the kitchen, just the three of them, prompted by Angus’ sudden, belated conviction to teach Sloane to cook something other than lamb stew. They spread parchment over the countertops and chop vegetables and roll dough and it gets to the point where Angus isn’t quite sure any of them know what they’re even making anymore, but they’re all gut-laughing and having fun, and that matters more to him than anything else. The dish comes out as some hybrid between vegetable soup and stuffed rolls, but in truth, it’s not _terrible_ , and they enjoy their last meal together in easy company.

They reminisce on the past two weeks like three friends looking back at their college years, all squished together on the couch. Hurley and Sloane occasionally look up at each other and share a quick kiss, just out of pure elation and contentment and _love_. Love for each other, love for Angus. Angus admires, not for the first time, how they kiss each other like they were made to kiss each other.

They fall asleep like that, squished together on the couch, before they’re ready to.

When Angus wakes up the next morning, he realizes he has a good two hours before his train is set to arrive. He makes sure not to disturb still-sleeping Sloane and Hurley as he rises from where he’d been leaning against Hurley’s shoulder, her skin still tinted a bit red from the weight of his head pressed against it. He pads into his room and makes the bed, trying to go as slow as he can to draw out the time. He knows that leaving is inevitable, so he tries to take extra care in the process of it, smoothing out corners and trying to remember things for how they are. It’s important that he remembers every detail.

Angus knows that it’ll be hard for him to return to this place. He’s hardly allowed to leave his house under the strict eyes of his parents in the first place; the only reason he was able to come here is because both police stations confirmed the trip and paid for lodging. He doesn’t even want to imagine what his mother and father would say or do if they somehow found out where he’d really been staying, what he’d been doing. He probably wouldn’t be allowed to do detective work ever again, much less leave town for it.

So this will be his last time for awhile, at least, and Angus has accepted it.

He spends time packing his bag, meticulously analyzing every new thing he places in atop his clothes. The night before, he had attempted to give _Beings_ _of the Wind_ back to Sloane, but she told him she wanted him to keep it and bookmarked a few of her favorite pages. Angus traces his fingers over the gold lettering on top as he sets it in the bag, breathing a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. He follows the book with a Goldcliff Militia “First Level Officer” badge that was gifted to him by Captain Bane upon the ‘success’ of their case. He grins at the sight of it and tucks it between two shirts for protection.

Lastly is a necklace, from Hurley, which is silver and adorns a small, simple charm of a bird. Instead of placing it in the suitcase, however, he clasps it around his neck, making sure to get it just right. He looks at it in the mirror and grins at his reflection.

He takes so long preparing to leave that when he finally takes one last look out the window and shuts the bedroom door behind him, Sloane and Hurley are already set to go. Angus takes one last look around the living room, breathes in the comfortingly musky smell of the place, and is the first one out the front door. He’s determined to make this as smooth as possible, and if being the first one out is how it has to happen, then that’s how it’s going to happen.

They ignore the nervous air around them as they walk to the train station and spend the stroll cracking jokes and making one another laugh. Angus can’t help but wonder what it might be like if his life had always been like this.

They arrive at the train station not long before it pulls in, and while they wait they get their goodbyes out of the way. Angus promises himself that he will keep it together; this is going to be as smooth as possible, he’s sure of it.

Sloane goes first, kneeling down to his eye level. She reaches up to his head and at first he thinks she’s going to tussle his hair again, like always, but instead she rests her palm against his cheek, and he melts into it involuntarily.

“I don’t know who I would be without you, kid.” She smiles. “Finish _Beings of the Wind,_ then write me and tell me all about it, and then I’ll send you another one. I promise. And if anything happens, _anything_ , you have a home here with us.” Her eyes well up with tears and she blinks them away, and Angus realizes, finally, why she sees so much of herself in him.

“You’re going to do wonderful, wonderful things, Angus,” she whispers, pulling him into her chest. He goes willingly, locking his arms tight around her until she lets him go. When she pulls away, Hurley slides in where Sloane had made a space in his arms, almost lifting Angus off the ground with the force of the embrace. They steady themselves and Hurley holds on tighter than she ever has before, and in the distance Angus can hear the train rumbling over the hills. Hurley leans back and looks at him hard, harder than she’s ever looked at him, and a tear drips down her cheek. She opens up her mouth to say something, but it’s cut off by a sudden sob, and she pulls him back in; Angus reminds himself of his promise to keep it together and breathes through the weight in his chest.

“Don’t stop being you, Angus. Don’t ever.” Hurley says between breaths, and Angus holds her tighter, thinking _i won’t i won’t i won’t_ and hoping she feels it from every nerve in his body to every nerve in hers. The train rumbles up to the station and slows to a stop, and behind him people pour out of the passenger cars, eager to experience Goldcliff for the first time or maybe the seventh time. Whatever time, Angus doubts it’ll be as sweet as his.

When passengers start to load onto the train Hurley lets go of Angus, taking his face in her hands and placing a kiss square on his nose, and he laughs loud and free and easy. It’s like he was meant for them, for this. He knows it now.

As he ascends the steps onto the train, he realizes he’s no longer afraid of leaving.

He leans out the window and his eyes instantly connect with Hurley’s, and she tugs on Sloane’s shirt and points at him. The two of them wave to Angus and he waves back, bold, smiling, no longer the typical Angus he’d been when he arrived. And as the train lets out a final whistle and pulls out of the station, Hurley runs alongside his window until the platform ends, and even then she waves to him until he disappears over the hill.


	8. and they sang, and they sang all the same.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. i can't believe we've already come to the conclusion of this fic!!!!!! i'm over the moon at all of your positive feedback and i'm so glad you guys have enjoyed it. i hope this ending doesn't disappoint. don't forget - you can find me on twitter as @pileofghosts !!! i can't wait to write more for you in the future, but until then, i hope this final chapter is as beautifully satisfactory as i intended it to be. enjoy, friends !!!!

Angus looks up at the cherry blossom tree and listens. 

He does not know what he is waiting for, but something about this whole thing just feels so expectant. So many things have led him to this moment; a long thread of smaller moments, all tied up into one. The river sparkles below him and he shivers in the breeze. 

When Angus first got back home after his stay with Sloane and Hurley, he wrote to them twice a week. He talked about his life, what he was reading, what he was doing, mysteries he was solving, and he always got back two letters in one envelope; one from Sloane, and one from Hurley. He always said he missed them and they always said they missed him right back; Sloane sent him two more poetry books and he read them both cover to cover. And for a few months, it was perfect.

After a while, though, Angus began to notice that Sloane’s letters were getting shorter and shorter, and eventually it was just Hurley, no Sloane at all. Angus poked and prodded at Hurley in his letters to explain what had happened, but she never acknowledged his questions. The one time she did, she explained that she had it all under control. Angus trusted her, but he still made himself sick worrying about it. The nightmares came back.

But Hurley responded every time, to every letter, and Angus held onto them like valuable artifacts.

The strange woman came to his house almost three and a half months after Angus returned home, and she was looking specifically for him. She explained that she was the director of an organization that employed Taako, Magnus and Merle, the three men he’d met in the Rockport Limited murder all those months ago. Since then, he’d been investigating more cases like that one, abnormal occurrences and disappearances that nobody could quite explain. She told him that, with parental consent, she would like to bring him to their base and have him work  _ for  _ them, rather than alongside them from a distance.

He had agreed in an instant.

And so he went to the moon base with The Director, and the first place she took him was to a chamber with an enormous tank inside. She explained that to be fully inoculated into the organization, he would have to drink some of the water from the tank. However, everybody back home, including Sloane and Hurley, would forget he ever existed.

He asked if he could still check in on people from time to time, and she had said yes, though nobody had really requested that before. And Angus thought about the peace the two of them would feel without knowing the pain of missing him, never having to wonder why he stopped replying to their letters. 

He drank the water then, and it tasted like poison, and suddenly he remembered things and knew things that he didn’t even know he knew.

Angus loved it. 

He learned from The Director that Magnus, Merle and Taako were on Toril collecting a relic, and they’d be back soon. He had wondered for a moment where they were exploring but decided not to ask. He wishes he had.

Angus spent the following few weeks or so so distracted by getting to know some of the people around the base that he kept forgetting to check on Sloane and Hurley, trusting his gut and telling himself they were doing okay, whether Angus saw it for himself or not. He talked to a dragonborn named Carey and an orc named Killian, who both warmed up to him quickly, and he talked to Johann, who took care of the Voidfish and played music for Angus on slow days. He spent some time with Avi, who seemed excited that Angus was willing to learn how to launch these transportation-orb-things. And after Merle, Magnus and Taako got back, he spent a lot of time with them, too, learning and growing at their sides.

After a little while, Angus was talking to Magnus about the relic they’d gone to reclaim when he first arrived, and he remembered to ask him where they’d found it. 

When Magnus told him they’d found it in Goldcliff, his stomach sank to his shoes. 

He left Magnus there with no explanation and made a beeline for The Director’s office, trying not to panic, telling himself he was overthinking it, but deep down he knew that there had to be some connection between Sloane’s lack of correspondence and the fact that there ended up being a relic there. He just knew. When he got to the office he was very obviously anxious and Davenport had let him in without conflict, apparently intuiting that it must have been important. 

Angus had bursted through the big doors and The Director jumped at the sound, looking up to see him and only relaxing for a moment before he demanded that she let him check on Sloane and Hurley. He used her Navigation Panel to search their names, like he  _ knew  _ how to do, and… nothing. He searched for both of them, first and last names for each, five, ten times over, and… there was nothing. 

He ran.

He had only been to the boys’ place a few times but he knew the way, now, and he ran to it almost instinctively, never thinking too much about the lefts and the rights. He reached the elevator and went down, down, down to their chamber, feeling the walls of the small elevator car closing in on him every second, finding it harder to breathe the further down he went-

The doors slid open and Angus ran in without hesitation, calling for one of them, any of them. Taako had rushed in from a room around the corner, apparently the only person there, and Angus stopped dead in his tracks, trying to slow his breathing, trying not to let the tears come, trying to remember the way Sloane’s hand had felt on top of his-

“Angus, what are you doing here?” Taako had asked, looking with surprisingly sincere concern at Angus’ frantic state.

“Were they happy?” Angus asked, and it was all he could manage. He stood in the hallway, which felt bigger than ever, all the walls expanding around him, so fast he couldn’t even try to stop it. 

“Who? Angus, what are you talking abou-”

“Sloane and Hurley.” Angus breathed, and just saying their names brought a sob up to the top of his throat. He caught it and shoved it back down. “Were they happy?” 

Taako had looked him over then, once, twice. He understood, Angus could tell, and he didn’t ask how Angus knew them or why he cared or anything of that nature. Instead, Taako let go of the door frame and looked Angus dead in the eye. 

“Yes.” 

That night, they’d left the moon base for a short visit to Goldcliff. Taako had barely spoken a word; he’d let Angus be alone for a while in the living room before quietly offering to take him to say goodbye. Angus had agreed without hesitation.

And now he’s here. Taako stands a little ways behind him, letting him have the time to himself, and Angus touches the tree’s bark so, so delicately, as if it really is the two women he’s grown so close to. As if they can feel it, there. He sees them in the roots, too, and notices how perfectly sized they are, and how perfect it is that Hurley went in Sloane’s arms. There are petals floating on the water, and Angus picks one up and looks at it, trying to find some sort of remnant of either of them in its veins. He can’t see anything, but he feels it, somehow. 

Angus smiles as he stands in the shadow of the cherry blossom tree and listens. He feels the breeze on his skin and he feels the water around his calves, and somewhere in the distance, Angus hears three birds singing the same song.


End file.
